


But Ava

by cupidmarwani



Category: Chicago Med
Genre: But can be read as stand alone, Can you taste the lesbianism that I put into this fic, Cheating, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Suggestive Themes, from my mafia!au on tumblr, mafia!boss Sarah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 07:01:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19762993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupidmarwani/pseuds/cupidmarwani
Summary: Sarah contemplates her relationship with Ava





	But Ava

When Sarah walks into a room, everyone knows exactly who she is. They are too aware of the blood staining her hands and her Italian leather shoes, of the way she paid for the diamond ring on her middle finger, of the damage a single word from her lips can cause. She is everything their mothers warn them about when the horizon overtakes the setting sun. As far as they're concerned, in a moment’s notice she can and will crush them beneath the sole of her shoe, then order their grieving loved ones to lick the floor clean. Everyone knows that about her.

Except for Ava.

Ava looks at her, and she sees something no one else does. Before Sarah’s mother died, the woman never really gave her a second glance, but the moment she rises to power, she finds herself with her hand on a mini skirt, too skittish at the time to do more than just rest there in a comforting weight. Her mother hadn’t approved of the sort of pastimes Sarah gets up to. But the thing about being the head of the Reese mafia is that no one else matters anymore. She’s in control. Anyone who dares to speak against her is dead before their body hits the ground, thanks to Connor.

The first time they kiss is on their fourth unofficial date. Sarah can afford the best of the best, which she doesn’t hesitate to bestow on someone who smiles as brightly, laughs as melodically as Ava. What’s the point of money if she has no one to spend it on? She spoils, she lavishes, and as their champagne glasses are refilled by a stiff waiter, Ava leans over the table to say something and Sarah kisses her. 

When they kiss, Ava tastes like champagne and the crème brûlée they just finished. She’s soft, unlike so many things involved in this life, and she smiles against Sarah’s lips when she strokes soft blonde hair, so well manicured like the acrylics on her fingers and the red lipstick that must be smeared all over Sarah now too. It feels like letting go for the first time in a long time, and when Sarah asks her to spend the night, Ava isn’t scared to say no. Nor is she afraid to kick off her heels in the middle of the floor, or strip in the bedroom and climb into bed with nothing between her and sheets with too many threads to count. She looks like she belongs there. Cherub, angel, cupid, Apphrodite herself with pink cheeks and Sarah wants nothing more than to kiss her until the world ends, but instead she slides into bed in nothing but her boxers- a whole layer more than Ava has kept- and wraps an arm around her waist.

Morning arrives slowly, but with teeth in Sarah’s bottom lip and blue eyes on hers and she decides, in that moment, this is the only thing she could ever want for the rest of time. Someone here, someone who doesn’t hate her or fear her. No one else would dare be rough with her, let alone before she’s fully awake, and it’s that spark that has her rolling them over and teaching herself every inch of Ava’s skin, leaving her mark where she must and complimenting herself over the purple bruises after.

But in the shower together, Ava washes Sarah’s hair like she’s done it a thousand times. She’s gentle, works her fingers through every curl and massages her scalp and it reminds her, strangely enough, of being bathed as a little girl because it was the only time anyone ever cared for her. Until Ava, that is. Ava washes her hair, and her body, and kisses her in spite of the heavy spray between them that only makes it harder to breathe. Again, she decides it must be bliss, even with the hard tile of the shower floor digging into her knees and the weight of Ava’s legs over her shoulders, voice echoing louder and louder.

Things go fast, so fast, and Sarah realizes some eight months into this thing they have that Ava isn’t involved in the life anymore, not really. She’s given her responsibilities to those she’s deemed capable, and Sarah gets used to Ava’s weight in her lap, to the point where she feels light as a balloon, liable to drift into the sky until the atmosphere forces her to burst without someone solid to hold her down. And that’s another thing Ava is for her; she’s an anchor to reality. She’s the one who washes the blood out of Sarah’s hair and braids it carefully after a long day. She’s the one who turns down the sheets and lays out clean boxers post shower. She’s the one who reminds Sarah to eat dinner and sometimes hand-delivers it to her office with a kiss exchanged. She’s the one who matters, the only one who matters, and that’s the reason why Sarah feels so goddamn guilty about all of this.

Her face buried in the crook of April’s neck, her mind is on Ava. Ava, who’s currently ten days sober by force in rehab because she’s been drinking. So much, so much and Sarah didn’t know because she hasn’t looked at the charges to her American Express in ages, not since she told Ava that she can have anything she wants. Anything and everything for the goddess who lives in the penthouse apartment in downtown Chicago, always waiting for Sarah on the couch or between the sheets when she comes home.

Sarah tries not to think about that now, when she’s with April, who keeps her alive but in a different way. As much as she loves Ava- and Sarah does love her, with everything she has left in her heart after all the times being the boss has attempted to crush it- it isn’t enough anymore. She knows they’re unhappy like this. Sarah’s hours get longer and longer, and more bottles of expensive wine are charged to the account, and when they do see each other, it’s mostly Sarah laying on her mattress, exhausted, kissing her wife and with her hands slipped into Ava’s harness to protect her from the friction burn. Then they sleep. And Ava kisses her when she leaves, but she already tastes like mimosas and how Sarah didn’t see this earlier, she doesn’t know.

April is something else. She brings back the spark that Sarah felt the first time Ava looked at her like she was more than a murderer, because April is like that too. She says that there’s a good heart in her chest, good head on her shoulders. She kisses her and sits on her hardwood desk and she smells like vanilla all the time, no matter what. Even when Sarah’s angry and her shirt is stained crimson, April opens her mouth, parts her legs, provides an escape.

It’s hard not to wonder with her, though. April has someone else, in much the same way Sarah does, and she gets this fear that April doesn’t want her, is afraid of her, and simply won’t risk saying no. Every time the thought pops into her mind- often in Ava’s voice- she tries to chase it away by begging April to talk, to tell her this is good, and Sarah isn’t the sort of woman who begs.

But she’s still thinking about Ava, even with April moaning into her ear, and she should stop doing this. It isn’t fair to either of them. Yet, here she is, and she does it every time, because she just wants someone to look at her like she isn’t a monster, whatever the cost. And April, she does that, but it’s more than what Ava does because even before rehab, she was always drunk. She looks accusing and angry, her cheeks red, even before the first time Sarah peeled off April’s tights and stuffed them in her desk drawer.

So many people drink. Sarah drinks too, when she’s in a meeting and it’s expected, but she’s never loved it the way her mother loved it more than her child, or the way Ava treats it like a surrogate wife even when Sarah is right there, reaching for her, tugging petulantly at the hem of a silk slip she knows cost way too much because everything is on her tab.

She wants to fix things, if she’s honest. She wants to go back to the first days, months, years of loving her and knowing that she had something real, but it’s hard to tell if it’s too late. Sarah does love Ava, does want to protect her- it’s why Connor’s out of commission for three weeks. But she doesn’t know if Ava still loves her. A doubt creeps into her mind on if Ava ever loved her. She may have lied to get something, the way everyone does, and has merely gotten bored of the charade.

Sarah pulls April’s hips closer to the edge of her desk, pushes in deeper and pretends that this isn’t the same toy Ava uses on her when sunlight barely streams through their open windows. The last time they shared a morning like that was too long ago. Maybe that’s worse than the fact that this is what she’s using even though she could easily buy another, or even just use another from the collection. 

No matter how hard she tries, she can’t forget the way Ava looked at her when she dropped her off at rehab. In the past, in the beginning, Ava was the only one who looked at her like a human being. Now, she looks at Sarah like she’s the bloodthirsty monster everyone else thinks she is. And, not for the first time, she wonders if everyone else is right. 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @beelivia where there's a lot more content for this AU!


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